Hail Hestia,
Ancient Hearth Mother,
Goddess of the Spiritual Flame,
Come and dwell here—
make of our home your home,
make of our hearth your hearth,
make of our temple your temple,
make of our hearts one heart,
your heart,
Hail Hestia!

I wrote this prayer around 2010, though it seems like I have been using it much longer. It is no longer something I have to think about, having become something of a beloved spiritual appendage. It always gives me comfort and is, I think, a gentle bonding between this great, often misunderstood and minimized, goddess and I. Over the years, she has brought many heartrending challenges into my life. I hope I have met them well. But then, that’s a post all on its own.

-M.

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About M. Ashley

Essayist and poet, my work has been rejected by some of the finest journals in America. Fortunately, it also gets accepted from time to time and has appeared in equally fine journals such as Word Riot, Inlandia, Brew City Magazine, and SageWoman among others.. In 2002, I was awarded the Academy of American Poets Prize for Vanderbilt University.
For no good reason, I possess an unnecessarily dark humor which is why being third generation California Inland Empirian delights me so. My gods are weird. I once received $350 for writing a smartassed essay on “why the wise use of water is important in my daily life”. I am undoubtedly the Greek god Hermes’ special snowflake. I’m pretty sure I got into college via a series of fortuitous clerical errors.
When I had to grow up and get a real job, I decided against it and stayed a writer. I have worked many odd—and I mean odd—jobs to support my habit: Commercial writer for country music hopefuls, resume massager, WalMart fitting room attendant and switchboard operator, telephone psychic.